The Girls of Winter

Out the window of the bar I’m watching

a circle of girls stretching and yawning

across the street. It’s late January and 74

degrees. They love the heat because

they are a moist heat. Heat loves

heat and today is a tease for what comes

with spring around here when the glorious birds

funnel back up from Mexico. The girls

don’t care about birds because they are birds.

I recall in high school a half dozen

cheerleaders resting on a wrestling mat

in short shorts in the gym, me beside them

with a silly groin ache. What were they?

Living, lovely, warm meat as we all are

reaching out of our bodies for someone else.